


the father, the son, and the holy ghost

by tattletwink



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, psuedo incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletwink/pseuds/tattletwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set a few months after the events of operation: snake eater</p><p>big boss tries to work out his grief over the boss's death by fucking her son, eyyyyyy</p>
            </blockquote>





	the father, the son, and the holy ghost

They look enough alike for Snake to wonder if he’s doing the right thing.

 

_This is proof that I was once a mother. I gave up my body and my child for my country. There is nothing left inside me now. Nothing at all. No hatred, not even regret._

 

Serpentine and deep, the scar twists up The Boss’s torso with cruel beauty. The image of her bared chest clings to Snake’s memory with a clarity that stings in the small hours of the night. It’s the futility more than anything that twists in his gut. He can’t reclaim what’s she’s lost, can’t hope to salvage her reputation, her lover, or her teammates.

 

But her child is another matter. He can take her son back. So he does.

 

It’s without much ceremony that their last fight devolves into something altogether more intimate, blows forgotten as Snake forges ahead to grope Ocelot’s half hard cock through his pants, to give him what he’s been chasing for the past few months.

 

Pinning Ocelot against the wall, Snake listens to him hiss and curse as he dips down to nip along his neck.

 

Gloved fingers direct his attention back upward, Ocelot catching his mouth with insistence. He’s a better kisser than Snake and quickly takes the lead. Unfocused hands manage to free Ocelot from his pants and Snake takes him in hand, jerking roughly.  

 

It’s only a few strokes before Ocelot’s moaning, forehead resting against Snake’s as his orgasm tightens low in his gut. Snake’s almost uncomfortably hard listening to Ocelot, the needy sounds coming from his throat, as he grips him with just enough friction to hurt.

 

Ocelot doesn’t last long, body shuddering before spilling onto Snake’s hand and pants. His face is flushed, whether or not its with exertion of embarrassment, Snake can’t tell. He turns to walk away, to leave this aborted experiment at it’s end, but Ocelot catches his hand.

 

“Wait.” Bringing Snake’s hand to his mouth, he sucks his fingers deliberately, cleaning them. Snake would laugh at such an obvious tease if he wasn’t still so painfully under-stimulated and the tight suction didn’t go straight to his groin. “I’m not done with you yet, _John_.”

 

Dropping to his knees before him, Ocelot licks at the mess he’s made on Snakes pants. Hot breath seeps through the fabric as his kittenish tongue lathes around the visible bulge of Snake’s erection. Clenching his hands into fists, Snake swallows as Ocelot leisurely noses around his groin.

 

It’s only when he’s satisfied with his work that he releases Snake’s cock from it’s confines, teasing it with his tongue before taking the head into his mouth.

 

Looking up at him through thick lashes, Ocelot looks the very picture of obscenity with cheeks hollowed and pink lips stretched wide around his cock. Unbidden fantasies of The Boss at his feet flood Snake’s mind, guilt and arousal surge through his body like an electric shock. Tilting his head back, it’s all he can do to keep himself together as Ocelot takes him deeper in his mouth.

 

Ocelot, eager to impress, forgoes what could be a quick and messy blowjob to flaunt his skill. Easing up whenever he senses Snake is close to coming, only to renew his ministrations when the urge has ebbed, Ocelot is diligent in keeping Snake inches away from the edge.

 

Snake is almost at the end of his patience when Ocelot deepthroats him, wringing a violent orgasm out of him. His vision flickers for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching out to grab Ocelot’s shoulder as he rides out the sensation. After swallowing him down, Ocelot looks up at him, a smirk playing on his swollen lips.

 

Snake wants to fuck him badly. But he won’t. Though the pleasure is overwhelming at the moment, Snake knows that guilt is a slow burn. Picturing his dead mentor while fucking her son is more baggage than he can handle at the moment. He stays the urge.

 

Ocelot looks so damn proud of himself on his knees. Snake may not be the greatest lover, but he knows the etiquette and he’ll be damned if he’ll let this brat turn sex into a contest. He pulls him up from the ground and kisses him tenderly to the younger man’s unmasked surprise. Tension in Ocelot’s figure dissipates as he kisses him back.

 

He is surprised when Ocelot stays the night, even more so when he wakes up the next morning to his sleeping figure beside him, twisted up in the thin cotton sheets, head resting on Snake’s arm.

 

Later he catches Ocelot’s eyes, clear and light as sea glass washed up on the shore, and feels the weight of The Boss’s gaze herself, appraising him with reproachful eyes. His throat tightens. For a second he swears the air is suffused with the cloying scent of _lilies_ even though they’re miles away from anything resembling the wilderness, let alone that fateful clearing.

 

The moment breaks when Ocelot cocks a confused eyebrow, switching back into the man he is instead of legacy he should have been.

 

Snake can breathe again, the air humid and dank. He doesn’t believe in ghosts.

 

Over time Ocelot distinguishes himself from the long-reaching shadow of The Boss with ease. Nature is ill-suited to withstand the constancy of nurture’s influence and although Ocelot may look enough like her in a certain light, grown they are as different as seeds scattered to the wind.

 

Her absence is bluntly felt. Raised without her, he is a stranger to her ethos, her mannerisms, her values. It is the remarkable lack of similarity between them that speaks volumes, her features on his face pale in comparison. Snake realizes how much of a replacement he was intended to be.

 

Soon he stops seeing her face in him altogether. Ocelot separates from her completely, any vestigial remnants of The Boss fall away like so much forgotten history. Snake doesn’t know how to reconcile the conflicting feelings of pain and relief.

 

It’s only when they eventually fuck that she returns, appearing in either Snake’s imagination or Ocelot himself, his lithe figure straddling him on the floor of a Russian safe-house. In the back of his mind, Snake wonders what the Sorrow say if he saw them now. Despite the ghosts and guilt in the periphery, Ocelot demands his full attention, lips parting just so as he finds the right angle.

 

He’s beautiful in his vulnerability, delicate features slackened with bliss. Despite everything in his head, Snake is transfixed. His orgasm crashes down on him shortly after Ocelot finds his, his name the last word on Snakes’ lips.

 

The younger man speaks with the casual bravado, always impressing upon Snake the greatness of his ideas, his wit. Snake wants to chalk it up to youth, but part of him isn’t so sure Ocelot won’t always be this way. Regardless, he can’t help but be charmed by the younger man’s transparent craving for validation.

 

More often than not he finds himself feeling older than the nine years age difference, Ocelot’s youthful brashness contrasting against his own subdued nature. Snake finds himself dropping bits of The Boss’s teachings into conversation, if only to see if Ocelot will accept them. He feels at once like a father and a brother to Ocelot for reasons the other man will never know.

 

He lies to himself when he says the distinctively incestuous undertone of their relationship bothers him, that his biological connection to The Boss doesn’t sweeten Ocelot’s appeal.

 

When he’s buried deep inside of Ocelot, fingers wrapped around the ivory column of his neck, he can’t help but dwell on the nature of possession: the binds of duty, love, and family. The thought of Ocelot being bound to him in so many ways makes him come harder than he’s ever come in his life. Demonstrating uncharacteristic charity, Ocelot tolerates it when Snake collapses on him afterwards, a smothering hot weight against his over-stimulated body.

 

He finds himself enjoying Ocelot’s company more and more when they’re on the move, traveling from one destination to next. Ocelot is prone to speeches on long stretches of road. Snake listens because he’s always been more of a listener than a talker, because he isn’t so sure there aren’t words of value in and among the window dressing.

 

The Boss never had much use for egoism in her communications. Her words were always measured and concise, carefully selected and vetted before shared with company. Her authority arose from her reputation, not from calculated speeches. They never needed many words, the Boss and him, not before.

 

Snake doesn’t think he could bear silence now. As Ocelot turns the corner, repeating the efficacy of a calculated counter strike against a military base, Snake loses himself within the tone and cadence of his voice. There is an assurance there, Snake isn’t sure if its tangible or if killing The Boss has made him soft.

 

He decides he’ll stay with him because there is a quickness in Ocelot’s eyes that looks familiar, because Ocelot is as good as his own flesh and blood. Watching the younger man with hungry eyes, Snake muses darkly.

 

They’ll have to tear his chest open before he'll give up her son.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I'm new to the party plz be kind, if there are major non canon compliant bits its because I've only played snake eater in it's entirety so far
> 
> 2\. Ocelot sounds cheesy as fuck because gay baby Ocelot IS CHEESY AS FUCK, its not me being terrible haha
> 
> 3\. Also I had no idea what to do with the title so there you go hahaha


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